Mistress and Master of Restraint

Katya Waters is aging gracefully, as her book has reached its 2nd year in publication milestone. If you’re a fan of the Mistress & Master of Restraint Series, tell your friends about this limited-time discounted rate of 99 pennies: April 23-30th only. Mistress & Master of Restraint Series is filled with dark twists and suspense-filled plots that keep you guessing and hungry for more. Restraint is book #1 of the 11 books currently in release.

Good Girl is Restraint’s less dark, but no less twisted, little sister. The debut in the contemporary/erotic romance Blended Series is free for a limited-time only: April 24-28th.

This birthday promotion is the best way to take a chance on author Erica Chilson, the Wicked Writer, without wasting a penny. Sample her writing style by delving in, and experience her warped sense of emotional torture while shining a bright light of hope within the shadowy darkness, promising a brighter future for her characters.

Good Girl: FREE 4/24-4/28
Discount price at 99 cents in anticipation of its sequel, Widow, list price will be $4.99 as of July. Save $4.99 by downloading this 700 page saga for free today.http://tinyurl.com/knqmrko

***Support Indie Authors by sharing promotions, and reading and reviewing. & Most importantly, word of mouth, by telling your book buds about this amazing steal***

Question: Do you find your reading tastes evolving as your life changes? (not that any genre is better than another, just differing from before). Please answer this for me via the comments on this blog, email at wickedwriter.ericachilson@gmail.com or M&M of Restraint closed group on FB. My curiosity is getting the better of me. I want to know if I’m somehow… broken.

My long-winded answer, with a side of defensiveness over some comments over Good Girl NOT being Erotica: (must never read another comment or review, because to me it’s like telling a mother her kid is homely. I’m sick of explaining myself, as if I have a reason that I should be defensive. My book. My rules)

As a child, I was a reluctant reader. My teachers were beside themselves because I didn’t want to read ‘Clifford the Big Red Dog’ or other books children my age thought were entertaining. I looked older than I was, and apparently I thought older than I was as well. This was decades ago, way before Kindles and ebooks. Books for the tween-aged girl were The Baby Sitter’s Club or the classics. Easily bored, it took a lot to entertain me and keep me engaged- still true to this day. My parents were at a loss, so that is when I received my first magazine subscription in my name at age 8: Mad Magazine. <- My father’s idea. 😉 Somehow he knew I’d turn out to be a closeted pervert who thought violence was humorous. “Spy vs Spy”

When I began reading novels at 10 years old, I read VC Andrews and Stephen King. Horror, mystery & suspense, with a side of sex, was the only thing that would capture my attention. Too mature for most kids my age, I’m sure. I’m no worse for wear, but highly well-read. Mom wouldn’t budge on Anne Rice, though. If a stranger had found my library card, they would have thought I was a grown woman. Good thing the librarian was my aunt and didn’t bat an eyelash at my selections. I never really thought about that until now… what did my aunt think? “Strange Kid,” I bet.

My early 20s were dedicated to VC Andrews and Oprah’s book club selections. In my late 20s through early 30s, I read Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance. Yes, you can thank the over-criticized Twilight to that obsession, and I’m not ashamed. It’s still one of my guilty pleasures.I was entertained; what more can I say?

For some reason I’ve yet to explore, I moved onto Dark Erotica, mixed with Young Adult as a palate cleanser. This is when I began writing. Although I was leaving UF & PNR behind, my first book was UF, and that’s why it’s my first book- the shelved Chrysalis that may never see the light of day. My second attempt was a mix of BDSM and Crime.

Restraint was a whim that I thought would never come to fruition, and less than 3 months after I started writing it, it was published. Obviously after this I read many books in the Dark Erotica and Erotica genres. Yes, I wrote Restraint way before I ever read a book it would be classified alongside. For me it was about control, and the lack of control I felt over my life, and had absolutely nothing to do with sex. Sex was just a metaphor to express how trapped I felt. While I had to categorize Restraint as Dark and Erotica because of its explicit nature, it was never smut. Never sex for the sake of sex. It was human behavior- a cerebral fucking.

Good Girl was another precipice in my life. A hybrid of contemporary and non-sexual BDSM(control over your own life and actions) with playful sex added into the mix. I was no longer reading Erotica or Dark Erotica. I’m not sure why my tastes have changed yet again. But I can’t read this type of book, and I haven’t for almost two years now. When readers recommend books that are in a similar genre as my own, I try, truly try, to read them. But I can’t. My tastes are now story-driven. It’s why I always liked YA so much. I want 100% story with amazing chemistry between well-fleshed-out characters, not 10% story with repetitive sex. Once sex is introduced, I get bored and check out, or want the story to end.

While many enjoy this: the following statement is about what I enjoy. You can debate me if you wish, but this is about personal preference and how it affects my writing style. What is sex without buildup? If it’s just input a character name here, put pegA into slotB, it doesn’t hold my attention. A hot, smooth talking dude just makes me groan. Give him some kickass name that I think is beyond ridiculous, make him heavily muscled, borderline abusive, and without any true characteristics, add a whiny woman without any self-respect, and make them screw in between 5 pages of storyline, and then screw again and again and again. Maybe add another cookie-cutter character into a menage. Don’t forget to add the Baby/Babe. Sorry, no! I can’t swallow it. I just can’t.

I understand the appeal of smut, why readers long to read it. It just doesn’t hold any appeal for me. Erica longs for… more.

In real life, that same douche wouldn’t do a thing for me, either. If he’s the abusive ass, I’d find him as an abusive ass. If he flashes me a bullshit grin… charm to me is false, lies, and highly annoying and predicable. To me it’s like small talk- I don’t have time for that waste of time… I am nothing if not serious. Debate me; that will get me hot and bothered, or just bothered. But either way, you’ll get an honest reaction out of me vs polite bullshit uttered out of social obligation.

When I read a book, I want to be left wounded, raw. I want real- real in all its glorious, pain-filled flaws. I want my emotions warped until I feel what the character is feeling, until the character becomes a true entity, and that is what I hope I achieve with my writing.

So now I find myself reading cheesy Historical Romance. Why? Why the hell would a woman who writes the M&M Series read about that era, an era that goes against her core belief system with its maltreatment to women? Easily answered: because it’s the same as when she was a child; Erica wants to read the opposite of her situation. She wants anti-reality. I’m also reading contemporary. Why you ask: because Erica also wants to read about reality. The mind that creates stories is complex enough to have to read varying genres to fight ennui.

Never fear: nothing will EVER inspire me to write historical. I love it, but just like novellas and short stories, I couldn’t write it if my life depended on it.

What does this mean for my writing future: I don’t know. M&M holds my undivided attention because it is so involved, twisted, character-driven. And as you can see from earlier books in the series vs later books, I refuse to add sex for the sake of sex. Any and all sex is to drive the story.

So I find myself with some negativity on Good Girl, not only for the addiction theme, but for the lack of erotica. Nowhere do I list this book as a sex-fest. I know readers do like smut, and I have nothing against it. I do not enjoy smut, so therefore I cannot write smut. So to negatively rate Good Girl because you are judging it against M&M or books in differing genres, is ludicrous. Good Girl, the Blended series, is NOT erotica, so to judge it against erotic is like judging Harry Potter against Fifty Shades. While Good Girl has sexual situations and themes, because real life has those, it is not a sex book. Never was, never will be, and I will make no apologies for it either. Other books in the Blended series, the sex will vary by the character. I’m not cookie-cutter. My characters are complex and different than the others. One book will not be a repeat of the last with the names and locations changed.

Is there anything I haven’t written? Any line I’ve refused to cross? I can understand why M&M readers would be blindsided by… borderline normal in Blended, but that doesn’t change a dang thing. I am the immovable object, and the only unstoppable force I will ever concede to is my own mind. Negativity will NEVER get me to move. It will only get me to become even more unbending. I’m always baffled by some comments and emails I get. My characters are dominant being. Who do you think created them? Exactly.

While many of my hardcore M&M fans will NOT enjoy Good Girl, the small following of Blended fans will NOT like Restraint. Why, you ask: because Erica Chilson is not a one-trick-pony. I have the capacity to write differing genres with equal fervor. I can write both, and I don’t ask my readers to read both. I’m good with two separate followings with a group of readers that straddle the genres. Just as my tastes have evolved over time, my writing does as well. Just as I was as a child, I am easily bored. I need both anti-reality and reality to keep myself interested… and an interested Wicked Writer writes better books than a writer that feels pressured into writing what readers want.

As you may know (or not), over here at Wicked Reads, Erica is our President, Queen, King, Goddess, or whatever hat she chooses to wear, so we’re giving away copies of Restraint & Good Girl to 2 of our lucky readers.

Grab a copy of the first book in the Mistress & Master of Restraint series, Restraint. Save $3.99 for a limited time (11/27-12/1). With a long standing series with 11 books already in release, perhaps you borrowed a copy and would like one for a reread or you have friends that would love to be immersed in the dark and twisted universe of M&M of Restraint. Word of mouth is the currency of Indie Authors, and our readers are the loudest. Please pass this information to your fellow deviants. The Wicked Writer thanks you! I’m not one for shameless promoting and spamming, but just this once, I’ll beg. *gives Puss&Boots eyes*

After more than a month of debate, both within my mind and with my betas, I threw the to-be-released series order out the window and went with my muse- for several reasons that I don’t wish to delve into. I’d originally stated that Silenced would follow The Hunter with Integrated to follow Silenced. The muse demanded I create Integrated within minutes of The Hunter making its visit to my betas. By the time The Hunter was returned for its final edits, I’d almost completed Integrated. While Integrated was making its beta run, I immediately started Hero.

As confusing as it is for readers, it was far worse for my poor mind. While writing Hero I encountered a new problem, one that I was scared to voice since I’d released titles, series order, and tentative release dates for several novels. A book formed, a book that was connected to Hero.

I awoke a week ago and said the hell with it all- I’m going with my gut.

Notice: Any timeline or deadline I’d previously released is null and void.

I’m writing one book at a time- soldiering through by my muse alone. I apologize for any confusion this may have caused you readers, but I must do this correctly the first time because there are no do-overs in publishing. Once released, it is what it is.

so this is the plan that I’m willing to voice. Definites are firm, meaning they are not subject to change. Probables are flexible, meaning they will be written but not in any specific order- they are on a ‘I’ll tell you when I figure it out basis‘.

Outlines created for untitled works in progress:
Leviticus Wilson
Dalton Fontaine Marconi (Yes, our beloved Emo is voicing another installment now that he’s grown into a man)
Julian ‘Julio’ Ramirez

What does this mean for the Playroom series? I’d planned on completing this story arc up until Master, and then writing the series in its entirety before delving into the chaotic journey of the Master of the Universe. Unless the muse goes batshit crazy again, Widow will be released after Empowered. Wayward may or may not be written immediately. It depends on the direction of the flow of the story. It is my hope that I will write the series, every other book until I reach Master, and then it will be a project beyond all projects to create Master.

I apologize for any and all confusion, and I hope to have Integrated released for a special Halloween trick-or-treat to fans.

I embark on a journey of self-realization, redemption, and forgiving oneself…

I’ve struggled since I was thirteen years old to keep myself even. I lost my innocence when I fractured. The childlike part of me was tainted while the dominant part of me overpowered my mind. I’ve lived in a constant state of tug-of-war.

Some call me Master Ez, Dr. Lunatic, Son, Elder Holden, Dad, or husband. Until I integrated I couldn’t simply be called Ezra.

Everyone struggles throughout life. I would know since I counsel a large majority. Imagine a life filled with financial, familial, and romantic problems, but compound that by fighting one’s own mind. Imagine having two halves dueling for control of your mind as you try to merge them into one, to give yourself peace. Mental illness makes the mundane seem trivial, doesn’t it?

With great wealth comes an ease of freedom of choice but an even larger responsibility. I am responsible for all those around me: their happiness, their safety… their torment and punishment and ruination.

Integrated, I finally recognize all the evil deeds I’ve committed in the name of my alters. I must come to terms with my actions, and for the first time ever, I need to accept the responsibility and the consequences.

I’ve set my path of redemption. I’ve asked for forgiveness, and I cannot demand that my victims pardon me. Out of my control, their thoughts on my character are their own… now, a much more difficult task lies ahead… forgiving oneself.

As if a newborn, raw and exposed, wounded and fragile, I must learn who this integrated person is that I don’t truly recognize. The last time I was whole was twenty years ago. I was a child, and now I am a man.

You must learn to walk before you run… I must ask for forgiveness before I can forgive myself… and hopefully, I can learn who I was meant to be along the way.

Integrated
–Chapter One–

Fog, wavering in a fog of self-creation. My mind’s way of protecting oneself from the guilt and shame. I know I’ve done something I will regret this evening as surely as I know I breathe. My body is sexually sated while my mind screams in torment. I realize both halves of the whole betrayed me on a primal level.

Both wanted what I had never planned to give… and the guilt is suffocating. It is a rape, a rape of oneself. When one half, or both halves, take dominion over your body to do as they will, it is the highest violation.

Already sensing something major was happening within my personal life, my mind fractured. One half took care of me while the other half laid in wait. Working in conjunction, they betrayed me- I betrayed myself.

I never planned on going through with my scheme with Daniel and Dalton. It was always a means to an end- an end where the boys lived a happily ever after, far removed from the fear, guilt, shame, and remorse over their sexuality. I simply wanted them to know they were better than they were behaving- to know they were worth more than waffling in self-doubt.

I never planned on being with them- fucking them- being fucked by them.

With a desperation borderlining on madness, I hunger with a desire so fierce that I’m on the edge of starvation- I must see Cortez. I must get to the meeting. No doubt he knows of my nightly activities, and no doubt he will surely leave me now.

While I’m always on the edge of madness, Cortez is always on the edge of flight. More so now than ever. I can feel it roiling in my blood, Cort’s behavior is not his norm- something is driving him away. He freely gives me unlimited access to his body but his emotions are closed off. It has always been the other way around.

I never feared losing Cortez, even when he denied me his body. His emotions were always an open book. Even when screaming I hate you, Cortez’s face was filled with love. Even when professing love, Cortez’s face was filled with hurt. One constant- the love was ever present.

Lately, Cortez has been suppressing the love while reveling in the lust. Fear has me forcing my companions to hurry, unsure what Master Ez said or did that put the tortured expression on Daniel’s handsome face.

This is what I hate. I hate that I have to ask myself what I did as if having a conversation about a separate entity. But it is ME who had upset Daniel. The discombobulating sensation is more than I can bare. If I didn’t have people counting on me, I’d have ended my confused existence by now.

My skin flushes pink, a mix of lust and embarrassment as I enter Misery Castle’s opulence. As if waiting for the perfect opportunity to ruin me, my halves waited until I arrived to the Christmas meeting to show me the hedonism I’d engaged in this evening with Daniel and Dalton. Ezra gleefully flashes sights, sounds, tastes, and scents into my mind. A kaleidoscope of lust-filled passions. This is how it’s always been. Ezra is gloating, bloated, fat and sated over this evening’s events. Ezra loves to be naughty and never tells me what I did until well after Cortez has received the punishment. In this instance, the punishment and the crime fall upon myself, so he, me, shows me what I’ve done.

Rosy pink flesh, striated with lean muscles, glistens with sweat. Pale, translucent skin filled with good health thrusts deep within me. A fingertip trails down a tattoo, its owner proudly professing that one of the Kings decorating the decedent landscape of his side represents me. Green eyes, blue eyes, green eyes, blue eyes flick like images being shot with the rapid flash of a camera shutter- an unearthly color and a color so deep that every sea envies the shade.

The sights put the pink high in my cheeks. But the melodious sounds- a composition of lust played by the greatest orchestras in the world fill my mind, causing my skin to tighten and burn with embarrassed arousal. The keen of two very satisfied young men in their early twenties without a lick of hair on them- boys that were almost untried- innocent- jaded by my knowledge. Ezra, I, had drank them deep, consumed them, and turned them into men.

My alters worked in communion with one another on the pair of young men: Ezra for the pleasure of flesh and Master Ez for the pleasure of the cerebral fuck.

I am not proud that I partook, but proud of the way Daniel and Dalton owned their true nature, reveled in the pleasure of being one’s true self. Never again will they deny their need for one another- they will never take the wrong path and fall off course.

The last thing I remember this evening- I, me, Ez, as I refuse to think of myself as Ezra or Master Ez. The last thing I remember as a whole being, not figments being flashed by a spiteful child or apologetic images being poured into my memories like glacial waters by an ethical tyrant.

The last thing I remember is Katya.

Our full-to-bursting household had just finished the Misery Castle Christmas dinner from Hell. All of us knowing, but not truly knowing what was to come upon midnight. We were antsy, predatory- anticipatory. A skittish Cortez wanted more time with the children, and the second he was out of earshot, Katya demanded my entire attention- and then it’s blank, save the flashes from my separate halves.

I see Katya at Restraint through a blurry haze from Ezra’s memories. This is the perplexing facet of my being. I focus on what I fail to remember, the dark void of utter blankness, and one or the other always mentally answers my unasked question. They pour difficult truths within my fractured mind. But what they show is never truth- it is filtered by their intentions, their protections- their perceptions.

He’s not mad at me, and he most definitely knows what I’ve done against my will. Pupils dilated, eclipsing the storm raging within his eyes, Cortez heatedly looks at me. A look I welcome. A look that beads my body with sweat and causes my cock to pulse like nothing ever could. I know in an instant that Cortez is not fleeing me because he’s already imagining remarking his territory with his body, with his lust, with his love. And I gladly await the exquisite torture.

I hear commotions around me. Shouts that one of my alters most definitely perpetrated. I take ownership for my unknown actions, but I don’t give it a second thought. It’s not arrogance or lack of empathy that has me not caring that the youngest Daniel and his pregnant female’s lives just smoldered into ash. I feel for the young couple on the deepest of levels. My lack of attention is due to my utter shock.

I’m captured within in their tightly wound familial web. My son and daughter. Brother and sister, eyes nearly the same but not quite. The male version is steely, just as Cort’s and mine, as is my dead aunt’s and my bastardized father’s gaze. The feminine version is softer yet colder, bluer- as with my living aunt, mother, and female cousin. The son carries the tainted Hunter genes, while the daughter, no less or more tainted, carries the Holden genes. My children are like Ezra and Master Ez, halves of my whole. Side-by-side, my child half, the Holden, Ava, sits by my stronger half, the Hunter, Zane.

Zane and Ava, united for the very first time, heal me, change me, unite me.

Cortez pumps the very blood through my veins, for he is my beating heart. Cortez’s life sustains my own. For if he breathes, I refuse to die. But that has never been enough to keep me even, balanced- whole. My children, my halves, they integrate me.

Integrated.

I sit down, noticing nothing but my son and daughter and Cortez’s gaze holding mine. On my left, I reach a hand out until a small, fragile, delicate and pink hand fills mine. I simultaneously do the same on my right with a hand identical to my own, only younger.

I hold my children’s hands and my partner’s eyes, and I am whole.

Integrated.

Heart pumping wildly out of control, breath sawing between my parted lips, eyes bulging in wondrous fear, my world view tilts on its axis, returning me to the state of existence I haven’t experienced in almost twenty years- I am finally myself: Ezra Holden Zeitler.

A gasp rushes out of my filled lungs. A gasp pulled from the mental inundation I undergo- the transformation- the completion. Memories don’t frigidly pour into me. The images aren’t snide snippets of gloating. It’s a lifetime of memories without unwarranted protection, twisted intention, or altered perception.

I just know… everything… in an instant- from one heartbeat to the next, one breath to the next.

There is no Ezra and no Master Ez.

Ezra: the boy who refused to be a Hunter to the point that he broke. Master Ez: the man who held me back from ending that boy’s life- our life. They are no more, because they are more together than apart.